Janet Kuypers reads original writing during her live feature Mercury Cafe in Chicago 11/30/07 called The Messenger.

For more information on the writing of Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com to read more of her work.

Here are all of the poems thatwere read on the radio (plus 3 potential poems for reading on the radio):

the Page

to inspiration



and you would still appear, appear in
the paper I held in my hand,

rippling waves in the pages before me,
a dorsal fin of a shark circling my head,

watching its prey. I could touch
the page and still feel

the rose I threw over the mahogany
box in the November cold,

the grass covered with ice, cracking
every time I took a step toward you.

I could feel the pain in the paper, and
I could still feel the cold

marble, freezing my fingers. And the
etched message
on the stone could still

took hold of me the way you did.
All I had to do was look at your

writing and feel the blood rush, feel
your breath on my neck, feel

the fist jumping out from the page
and hitting
me in the face. I could feel it.

I could feel a thousand wars fought
and won on your page, in

your words. I could feel your hot
breath pushing up against

my neck, I could feel your hands taking
my shoulders,
throwing me back in the chair.

I would look at your paper
and see out the
window the masses rising, rioting in the

streets. I can feel the tide rising from
your thoughts.
What do you possess? What

have you been through, to give you
such a gift? I
look back at the page,

and I begin to feel your hand from
under the page, from in the desk,

razor in hand, shoving up
through the fiber,
slicing at the air,
trying desperately to get to me.

And I get up from my chair, walk over
to the bathroom,
almost like memorization.

I feel nothing but the drive you felt.
In the mirror,
there are cuts on my face.

--

gift of motherhood part two


"We need only think of how the gift of motherhood
is often penalized rather than rewarded
even though humanity owes its very survival to this gift
Certainly, much remains to be done
to prevent discrimination against those
who have chosen to be wives and mothers"

Letter to Women, Message of His Holiness
POPE JOHN PAUL II, July 10

"so i was sitting in on a meeting with the
other managers, and we were talking about
presenting our project at the upcoming
trade show, when our boss said, oh, none
of us will have to go i'll just hire some
dumb - and then he looked at me, with my
long blonde hair - some model to demonstrate
it instead. and this is the same guy who has
a photo in his office of a woman in a
legligee grabbing her crotch, i mean, it's not
even a tasteful photo. i wonder what he'd
think if he came into my office and there was
a playgirl magazine sitting on my desk?
one of my supervisors even kept asking me
to go out and get lunches for everyone, or to
fax stuff for him. i finally had to tell him no.
i said, why don't you ask john? he's been here
less than me, you could ask him to do it.
but he never did. i look around, and i think,
i'm the only woman here. why is that?"

--

a stand-off


Too many things bombard us
we scan from channel to channel
eyes darting, first war, destruction,
then a weight loss commercial.
I know you're thinking society is
ludicrous - and it is - but don't you see
that when I watch that t.v. screen
all I see is that I'm not thin enough?
I've tried to make things right with
us. I've tried to bring us one glimmer
of happiness, I've tried to turn off
that media mudslinging
tried to make things a little better
even if it is only in our bedroom
and even if it is only for one night.
And you, you look away
and think I'm hopeless. I'm grasping
at whatever straws are left.

--

Confident Women


I met up with an old friend of mine
for drinks last week. I knew her
in high school, although we weren't
close friends then. In those days she
needed therapy, had problems with drugs,
I think, or else it was just family
problems. I was a bit insecure myself,
shy, meek, scared of life. Since those days
we matured, we're now more independent,
self-confident, self-assured women.
It was good to see her again. She
just came back from camping in
Australia; although physically I had
gone nowhere, we both had our stories
to tell over a bottle or two of wine.
And we gossiped, she told me of the
handsome Australian man she fell for,
I told her of the roller-coaster I call
my romantic life. And we laughed.
And then the gossip changed, her
voice lowered, and sounding stern
but quiet, she told me of how a man
broke into her apartment one night
last summer and he tried to rape her,
and after kicking and screaming
in her underwear she managed to
break free and her attacker escaped.
She told me they found the man,
and the trial is scheduled for later
in the month. And she sat there, with
her wine glass in her hand, looking
so confident, as if she knew she
won this battle. Trying not to sound
corny, I told her I could give her
a hug. And she leaned on my shoulder,
and she cried, hiccuping as she
tried to catch her breath. They
would make her recount everything
on the stand, she said, and the defense
lawyers would try to make her sound
promiscuous because she slept
alone in her underwear. I told her I
would go with her to the trial. I told her
she is winning by speaking out.
Self-assured women. Confident women.
How confident are we supposed to be?

--

Have No Backbone


I tried to put on the show for you
but no matter how good an actress is
she cannot become her part
I tried to show I loved you
I tried to act as if I cared
but I really didn't give a damn
not about you
and so I hid it
I hid my feelings
suppressed my emotions
and I acted like your daughter

I feel nothing
so I go through the motions
and it hurts me to think
that I really don't have a family

the flashbacks kill me
and so I do my best to forget
and to smile when I am told
but I can only smile for so long
when I really want to cry
and I really want to leave

but the thought of the curtain closing
hurts me more
than playing the part
so don't worry
the role is still filled
for as long as I do not have a backbone
and as long as I do not have a family
I will act

--

the martyr and the saint


they gave their daughter the name
of the Patron Saint of television

and the television's always been
one thing she hated about him

or was it the drinking that he needed
more than her

the business has gone bad
I'm a failure I'm not a man

he said he respected her
then he'd call her

a twenty dollar whore from Vegas

and the mother would hold
the child, the saint, the pure angel

hold her ears and hope she
couldn't hear

--

civil war


I

the confederates are winning the battle
but I know the north will win the war
and all they'll get is a ravaged battlefield

II

a civil war is raging inside me
but I'm tired of fighting from within
when all I want is a revolution

--

Burning Building


This is what you don't allow me to say.
These words I utter are a plea for help
and you tell me you want to be the hand
that pulls me from the burning building
and every time I try to be rescued
you turn your back and walk away

so I will rescue myself this time again
and I will wonder if I should stop trying
and allow myself to perish in the flames
now all I have to do is sit and wait
for another disaster to consume me
and sitting in silence is exactly what I'll do

Why do you tell me one thing and do another?
Why do you run away when I need you most?
I'm stepping over the wooden beams now,
and the flames are all around me. Here, look
at the blood dripping from my arms. Here,
smell my flesh burning. This is what you do.

I do not walk away unscathed. I never do.
But now that I wait for my next burning building
I know I will never allow myself to enter it.
Why can't it be easier to perish? I try and try,
and every time at the last minute, my figure
steps over the the charred remains and saves me.

If only there were no more burning buildings.
If only I didn't have to save myself all the time.
If only I could feel free, just this once.
If only I could feel safe with you, just this once.
If only your words weren't empty promises.
If only your words were not the burning building.

--

Let the War Begin


My silence is my only choice. My silence
is my weapon. As it is with you. As it is
with all of us.

To go against all instinct and not fight.
This is my weapon. To keep us alive and
bury the truth.

This is the way I keep our sanity, but
lose mine. Isn't this the way it always goes.
Me giving in first.

You say this isn't what you want but
your actions speak novels to me. I've read
this book before.

Nothing is pure when you destroy purity.
Nothing is sacred when there is no God
and no hope.

I've lost my battles and now I need new
defenses. I've thrown down the gauntlet.
Let the war begin.

--

holding my hand


when we're walking in stride together down
the street and our feet pump out the same rhythm
and our shoulders are almost touching and our
hands brush up against each other for one brief
moment and he reaches over and takes my hand

when he slides his fingers around mine
and I feel him move along the palm of my hand
well, no one knows what it feels like
when his fingers curl and hold me tight
well, it feels like pop rocks

it feels like when that candy is sliding
down my throat after I let it explode
on my tongue and it's still tingling and no
one knows I'm eating this and no one knows
the feeling and this is my little secret

and I feel this feeling like never before
and it makes me want to laugh and cry
because I look around the room and no one
else is eating those pop rocks and no one
knows the feeling when he's holding my hand

--

timing is everything


timing is everything, you know
just when you say you've had enough
just when you're ready to wave that white flag
and step out of the ring and stop playing the game
and stop feeling the pain because you're numb

that's when for a brief moment something
wonderful happens and reminds you why you live
and reminds you of what hope and joy and
even love is

and suddenly breathing is no longer a chore
and suddenly nothing is a chore and suddenly
there is no pain and suddenly you remember
what it's like to be alive and you start to like it

well, that's when they pull they rug out from
under you, right at that moment, so that
you can fall to the floor and then the biting
sting of pain hurts that much more

timing is everything, you know, they do it
that way on purpose because they can't let you
go on feeling hope and not feeling pain
this is their key, it's all in the timing

--

Mixing Metaphors


a heart is supposed to mean romance
but the deep dark red suggests lust

the cupid suggests true love anew
but a child knows only dependency

love hits you like a ton of bricks
and you only hurt the ones you love

I keep hearing of all these conflicts
and I'm trying to make sense of it all

and I'm mixing my metaphors now
I'm mixing my cocktails on a saturday night

throw love in with vodka and lime
and a little cointreau and you have

an absolutely perfect martini, well
that's what I hear so I keep drinking

and mixing and drinking and trying
you know, I've heard that for an added kick,

keep in the love but add just a splash of lust
the way that deep red heart of romance

suggests so much more than candy and flowers
because really, when it comes down

to it, when you get all those metaphors
together even though they seem to mean

so many different things, well,
when you get the right martini recipe,

well, every ingredient is so necessary
lust and love and all that other good-

tasting stuff that goes down so easy
well, every ingredient is necessary

in that perfect drink because everything
seems to come together so well

and everything suddenly means
so much even if it's only a drink and

even if it's only a cheesey metaphor
and suddenly that's okay

--

Expecting the Stoning


I
you know how you want a popsicle
and you want it for the longest time
and you don't even know what it's going to taste like when you get it
and then you finally get it
and it tastes oh so good
and you have some if it
and you want to save it so you can have it later
and then you realize
that in order to keep the popsicle from disappearing
it has to stay in the freezer

that it had to stay in the freezer in order to survive
that it was meant to be cold forever
or consumed

it was either one or the other
they taught you that fact when you were little
you can't have it both ways

you can try
and it might be fun at first
but everyone knows it will hurt later on

II
I think what I liked the most about us
was the theory of romance

no, wait, it wasn't that
it was the fact that it was forbidden
and this wasn't quote unquote supposed to be happening

but I liked the idea of being with you
I would travel across the country to see you
the thought of you and the times we had behind everyone's backs
those times were like poems to me
and maybe looking back we weren't technically together
when we couldn't even tell anyone
but it was still nice for me to fantasize

and what did it get me


III
maybe my problem was that it was all in my head
and maybe I didn't realize
the novelty would wear off for you
that you were like the average American
and after twenty seconds of watching a television show
you'd want to change the channel
with the remote on the arm of your chair

I didn't know you were a popsicle that would melt
when you were exposed to ANY sunlight or ANY heat at ANY time

I didn't know you had problems. don't we all.
we all don't go to psychiatrists and stay on medications
maybe I didn't know how bad your problems were

I didn't know you were a snowman
that I made in the backyard at my house in the winter when I was little
a snowman that was fully equipped with
a carrot nose, like pinocchio, no, wait, like you, with
no hair, like you, with black rocks for eyes, like you

and yeah, that snowman melted with spring, like you
and maybe I should have learned my lesson
from that damned snowman

IV
I remember how little kids would want to build snowmen
in the winter
they didn't seem to mind the snowman eventually going away

I hated the cold, so I didn't play in the snow as much

maybe in playing those little games
everyone else learned their lesson

V
I should expect the stonings that I am bound to receive
for telling you that I know what you have done
and that I want the rest of the world to know it too
I will expect the stonings
with time, I have been getting used to the punishments
for telling the truth, even when people don't want to hear it

so, thank you for getting my hopes up and then blowing them away
with one breath from your lips
like anyone would do to table salt spilled on the counter

because I think I needed to learn that lesson
and in a way, for now,
I only have you to thank for it


This movie is part of the collection: Community Video

Producer: Janet Kuypers
Audio/Visual: sound, color
Keywords: Janet Kuypers, www.janetkuypers.com, poem, poetry, Chicago, live, reading, feature, Messenger, Mercury, Cafe

Creative Commons license: Attribution 3.0 United States

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Reviewer: enigma2kiki - - October 20, 2010
Subject: Thanks for the comments
It's nice to see that reviewers will write nice things about this video post while also placing their ads in the reviews.